Sherlock Season 4 The Dual of Genius
by DoctorKrisWatson
Summary: What happened after "His Last Vow" in Sherlock Season 3? As we're all stuck in hiatus waiting for Season 4, here is a story to pass the time: Sherlock has gotten off the plane and starts investigating the resurrection of our favorite consulting criminal-Moriarty. But what happens when John finds Sherlock back in his sheet and doesn't want to talk to him. Does Sherlock miss him ?


**1**

"You know, I don't think I said this yet but it's good to have you back."

Sherlock stared at his computer screen. Lightly he licked his bottom lip as his pupils darted around the image projecting into his powder blue irises. An image John continued to look at through Sherlock's vision waiting for his answer. Sherlock tapped his fingertips gently on the keyboard. A cold cup of tea sat to his right. It wasn't satisfying him. He needed something stronger than tea.

"Are you going to be a mute now or are you going to talk to me?" John asked heavily. He was sitting in his favourite chair across from where Sherlock was sitting at his desk. He was pretending to read the paper that he forced his eyes to focus on but it only made him look more into Sherlock's eyes for an answer. He hadn't spoken to him since he landed from the plane.

Actually that wasn't entirely true. Sherlock had said Mary and John's name as he climbed down the steps but none of them could hear him from the blare of the engine. He had smiled as his blue scarf blew furiously in the wind as it swatted at his porcelain face. His curly, dark hair half concealed his eyes that showcased the relief and overwhelming happiness he was feeling to be back on the ground and to see John again. But, the one time he temporarily let his guard down and revealed any emotion was when John couldn't see it because of the harsh wind and there distance from each other.

As the engine died down Sherlock let out a loud sigh. He was approaching Mary and John with great haste. He was contemplating on how to greet John either with a smart remark or sarcasm while John was preparing to chastise Sherlock for not giving him a more heartfelt farewell to then have him reply with knowing he wasn't flying off into exile because he was so clever in knowing everything.

Suddenly, Mycroft's black umbrella sprung up into the sky. He had opened it to get Sherlock's attention and had noticed it was beginning to sprinkle rain. At the exact moment right, before Sherlock was in talking distance with John, the black object had caught his eye. He stopped.

Sherlock looked over at John and Mary, who were ready to embrace him, to Mycroft in his usual black suit and tie. His pointed nose was up and his expression was calm. Though, it held a possible hint of alarm. It was Mycroft's sign. He was sending him a desperate stare and an arched eyebrow which was his way of letting his brother know they needed to talk. And Mycroft knew his brother would choose him over his friends. He seriously needed him right now.

With a regretful glance, Sherlock gave John and Mary a slight wave of his hand and climbed into the already opened door to the back seat. Mycroft closed his umbrella and climbed in after him. The only words John had heard from Mycroft while they had started walked up to the vehicle were, "It seems someone has missed you Sherlock."

Seconds later the wheels started to smoke and the vehicle had charged forward, driving away from the plane. Wanting to say something to Sherlock, the two of them were left standing in a cloud of dust with no happy greeting. John, feeling left out and utterly surprised that they wouldn't include him, walked out of the airport with his wife. Hand in hand.

John waited and stayed with Mary for the rest of the night, knowing Sherlock would be busy with his brother. But, he couldn't get his best friend out of his mind. He tossed and turned profusely, thinking about sending him a text as he glanced back at Mary not wanting to disturb her. His cell phone sat on his bed side table, tempting him to text. Hesitating, John extended his hand over to the electronic device. Hovering over the object, John decided last minute to just leave Sherlock alone. It wasn't as if he was important to him anyway, or else he would be running with him all over England to find out where Moriarty was or at least know what Mycroft had told Sherlock. No, he didn't need him right now. John went back to his restless sleep.

Almost a full 24 hours later John arrived at 221B Baker Street. He knocked at the door, staring at the brass letters above him. He had hoped Sherlock would have texted him by now but thought better to go and see him at their flat. No answer. Not even Mrs. Hudson came to the door...then again it was really late.

It was no surprise that once Watson opened the door, which he found wasn't locked, he found his friend on his computer in the dark. And he was in a white sheet. That was what Sherlock did—stupid and weird things. But after speaking with his brother about Moriarty? Why get back into his sheet.

John tried to speak with him but he didn't answer. Since then, John's attempts to get Sherlock to talk were unsuccessful.

"Are you going to tell me what he told you?"

Sherlock continued to stay silent. His hands had left the keyboard and now were stuck together in his popular position under his chin. His eyes never left the screen.

John was like a broken record, repeating the same questions he had been attempting to receive answers for. Even twisting the questions around wasn't working.

"Well, I already told you what he told me. That Moriarty was back and what he did throughout England. I assume Mycroft told you that too?"

Sherlock nodded. It was the first acknowledgment over the past few hours that John had been patiently waiting through. John had no idea why Sherlock was acting this way. He was angry that he wouldn't speak to him, especially since he had previously said good-bye and the emotions from all of that were at the time difficult to bear. But John decided to keep calm about this. It was Sherlock after all. He would continue to stay as long as he could before being ignored got to him. He was almost as stubborn has Sherlock. He could play this game.

John knew something was wrong with Sherlock. He knew Sherlock too well and this should be an exciting new case for him. To figure out how Moriarty resurrected after blowing his brains out was definitely a case worthy for his genius. Sherlock would have already figured out all the possibilities of Moriarty being alive and he would want to show them off to John with a huge monologue and then go and prove one of them was right. Oddly enough, Sherlock was not responding to the news the way he had thought.

"Did you figure it out?" John whispered. Sitting in the dim light of the flat made him anxious. He wanted Sherlock to provide him with an answer or he wasn't going to be still anymore. Sherlock was pissing him off and soon he was going to grab the skull on top of the mantle and throw it at his head. Maybe bust a cheekbone if he aims for it.

"I don't understand." The words seeped from Sherlock's dry lips. It had a haunting sound as if he were being deprived from living. His voice sounded like it had been unused for a long time. His face was white like the sheet he had shrouded himself in. His hands broke from their position as he ruffled his hair with a frustrated scratch. He had not eaten since John found him and concern for his health was diminishing the former anger in John's mind. He had just noticed that Sherlock's fingers were looking a little boner than usual. He was definitely not well.

Sherlock was repeating a motion with his finger on the mouse pad of his computer. What John didn't know was that he was rewinding the video Moriarty had broadcasted all over England. He had been observing it and deducing what the message had meant and why Moriarty had used this form of communication. He was rewinding Moriarty's bored smirk to then watch it form into his creepy, sinister smile. Of course Sherlock had come up with multiple ideas for what it all meant but something was troubling him. Something he hadn't realized he had done back on top of that roof top. It was something he was afraid to tell John.

John rose from his chair.

"You spoke?"

"You act like it's unnatural for me to speak when it's the complete opposite. You know I can talk for days on end or just be in complete silence while being oblivious to what you're doing." Sherlock remarked on his own behaviour.

"That's what I mean. You're usually oblivious to me when you become silent like this but the difference is you aren't."

The whites of Sherlock's eyes slightly widened for a few seconds as he realized John was right. But, they faded back to normal once he revealed a small smile at his colleague who he shared his utmost respect for. He was one of few who could outsmart him.

"Something's wrong Sherlock. I mean it's disturbing to think that the consulting criminal is back from the dead but to see you like this..."

"Like you haven't seen me like this before."

"No I haven't!" John angrily threw his newspaper down on Sherlock's desk. He pointed his finger at his face and stared hard at him so that he could get his attention. "There's something wrong and you're not telling me."

John flicked the computer screen down. He was tired of Sherlock's games. He grabbed a chair and planted it right across from Sherlock. He plunked down making sure he was directly across from him and waited.

"Well go on now you don't have any distractions. Tell me what's wrong."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You know I can just leave."

"Oh I thought you would say that. Go ahead Sherlock. Get up."

Sherlock hesitated. He sent John an arched eyebrow and bent over the table slowly so he could see under it. There he found Watson's foot securely holding down his white sheet. Sherlock brought himself back up to find Watson giving him a faint smile underneath his tempered scowl.

"Using Mycroft's tricks are we?"

"Well he did know you best."

Watson's smile faded and his face fell dark. He crossed his arms and motioned with his head for Sherlock to begin explaining himself.

Sherlock sighed. He ran his fingertips over his face and rubbed his temples.

"Why are you making me do this John?"

"Just admit that you need to take care of yourself."

Sherlock sat up straight with a confused facial expression.

"What?"

"Just admit that you need to eat, bathe and have a rest and I'll let go of your sheet."

"Is that really it?" Sherlock asked cautiously.

"Yes what else would I want? I'm a doctor and I know you're sick so just admit it already."

Sherlock scoffed. He thought John wanted him to reveal what he secretly did not want to tell him.

"Okay I need to take care of myself, there, are you happy?"

He went to stand when John took hold of his sheet harder. The cloth around his chest began to let go and Sherlock quickly grabbed hold of it. Startled, Sherlock glared at John who was smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh you know what I really want to hear. Now tell me what's bothering you."

Defeated, Sherlock sat back down roughly in his seat, causing his tea to shake inside the cup.

"I knew there was more."

"Of course there was." John agreed playfully.

"You know I could lie to you."

"I know and I will be able to identify it."

"No you can't."

"Really, after what you said before jumping off of St. Bart's hospital..." Watson gave him a stern look. "Try me."

Sherlock could no longer keep his secret hidden. John needs to know eventually but this wasn't the time that Sherlock wanted to tell him. He wanted it to be over a dead body or even with Anderson's face in the background to distract him. But here, with John insisting on him to spill the beans or whatever they call it, Sherlock had no choice.

"Alright John, I'll tell you."

"Will you really?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well get on with it then you need to eat something before bed."

John glanced out the window noticing how dark it was.

Sherlock started to get comfortable as he adjusted his sheet. His left shoulder was suddenly revealed as the grip from Watson's foot made it collapse from around his neck. A portion of a nicotine patch caught John's eye.

"What is that?"

"What's what?"

Before Sherlock could react, Watson sprung up and grabbed hold of Sherlock's sheet.

"I thought you were concerned with people seeing one of us ripping off the other person's clothes?"

"Oh shut up!"

With a gasp, John had only removed enough of Sherlock's sheet to see the ten nicotine patches along his chest.

"Sherlock! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Tea wasn't strong enough." Sherlock responded tiredly pointing at the cold tea. "I needed to think."

"THINK! Sherlock you can seriously harm yourself with that much nicotine at once. What am I going to do with you?" John grabbed a patch and ripped it off.

"Hey! That hurt."

"I'll hurt you much worse than that if you do this again." John threatened. "Your limit is four Sherlock. Just four." He finished ripping off the remaining five, leaving Sherlock with six pink, circle marks on his body, and sat back down.

"Now then, you were saying."

"There were snipers John..."

"What?"

John's faced contorted with confusion and surprise. He looked out the window and behind his chair thinking Sherlock meant there were snipers in this room. He turned back around.

"No, I mean when I told you about Moriarty killing himself on top of the roof of St. Bart's hospital and then I jumped off to make it look like I had killed myself to go along with his game there were snipers..."

"Yes I know you were threatened you already tol..."

"No John, snipers at you."

John closed his mouth and just stared at him in shock. Sherlock looked away from him as he continued.

"There was one on Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and you. I never mentioned it because I didn't want you to know that they would have killed you if not for me...you know."

"Bullshit."

Sherlock's eyes looked at John in surprise.

"Complete and udder bullshit. You didn't want to tell me that you saved our lives because it would mean that you cared. Human error I think you call it." John said sharply.

Sherlock gulped hard and cleared his throat.

"Well yes...exactly."

"Ummhmm." John murmured. "Anything else I need to know?"

"That's what I'm trying to say John. I didn't just have a human error with caring for...my friends. I had an error with myself. A mistake. A loose wire or whatever."

"You know I was joking when I called you a machine." John smiled lightly.

"The point is John that by caring about everyone I was able to pull off my fake death, but in the midst of Moriarty killing himself on that roof top I was so consumed in worrying about your lives I didn't observe his death clearly. I took in his gun and the way he fell and the way he shot himself but when I knew that my plan wasn't complete until I jumped I ignored Moriarty and finished operation Lazarus by jumping off that building. Of course you had to see it so it could give Mycroft's men enough time to shoot the snipers and make sure you were save. The bottom line is I have no idea how Moriarty killed himself. I didn't observe it long enough. It could have been the piece I needed to figure this out. That's why I am doing this to myself Watson. I needed to be at my worst to be at my best."

Sherlock put his head down on the table. John sat there baffled for a moment, unsure of what to say.

He ran his hand through his blond and silver hair and then rubbed his nose. He planted his two feet firmly on the carpet and hung his head while he thought.

Suddenly, Watson slapped both of his knee caps and jumped up from his chair.

"Look Sherlock, it doesn't matter if you didn't observe Moriarty's death."

"Go away John." Sherlock mumbled. He grabbed his sheet and wrapped himself in it, covering his chest.

"I'm not going in there after you. You have to get up and pull yourself together. I know you. Go into your mind palace you'll figure it out."

"Uhhhh."

"Oh come on. You can figure out from the video where he is and what he is doing right?"

"Of course. I know where he shot the video by the background from the film, I know he was somewhere else recording his voice while he used the image of himself in a studio so that his voice didn't exactly match his lips because it was a recording to make us believe that he wasn't actually back from the dead but that he used an old recording, or should I say someone else to use a recording to take us off his track and make us think someone else was trying to get our attention, a new villain to his story, who knows, but no I can see through it, the way he dressed himself in that video showed he had been traveling across the globe. The wrinkles on his shirt, presumably rebuilding his empire, or it had never been demolished and he's just making us think that it was, and how he changed his voice like that he wants us to find him and he wanted to come back into the media with a bang because he's the king that holds the key to the world. He wants to make it clear he has power. He created Richard Brooke to destroy my reputation but no...no he used Richard Brooke, a twin brother maybe? No he wanted us to think there were possibly two of them and that Richard Brooke killed himself since there was a body and that Moriarty was alive or the other way around but no thinking back to what I did observe I WAS with Moriarty on that roof top...and he did shoot himself."

John just sat there with widened eyes but with an expected expression of how Sherlock would perform.

"So Moriarty is dead?"

"No...but Richard Brooke is."

"I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"Oh John can't you see it. He had a split personality. He killed Richard Brooke in his mind by pretending to kill himself. It was a real gun that he had but he didn't take the shot. He threw the gun and the blood spilled from the back of his head not the top. He faked his death on that rooftop but at the same time he had someone shoot at close range to make it sound like he killed himself and by doing that he killed his identity and now has come back from the dead to scare everyone...why?"

"I thought you said you couldn't solve it?"

"I needed your help John. I couldn't do it alone."

"Wait a minute!" John shouted, getting up off his chair. "You didn't eat, bathe or sleep because you knew I would notice and by telling that heartfelt story you would solve it."

"Not all of it but most of it thanks again John." Sherlock smiled and got up, wrapping his sheet and passing by Watson with a huge grin.

"So we have to figure out why he's doing this?"

"Precisely. He's given my enough information with your help and I think we can find him John. I just really needed you to help me it keeps me focused. "

"But, you forgot one thing."

Sherlock stopped.

"And what's that?"

"My reaction!" John yelled. He tackled Sherlock to the ground.

"John I'm not wearing anything!"

"I don't give a damn!"

The sheet fell off and Sherlock was wearing grey sweat pants underneath.

"The sheet was bulging too much I knew you were wearing something under their Sherlock."

"Oh get off!" Sherlock said dryly as they both began to laugh trying to get out of the white sheet but seemed to get tangled up into it.

"Oh dear me!" A voice chimed with shock from the kitchen.

Sherlock and Watson's heads popped up from within the white sheet on the floor.

"Mrs. Hudson what are you doing here?"

"You have a visitor did you not hear the knocking? And please don't do that when we have company it's indecent. You can do it on your own time."

"I'm not taking clients or visitors I'm on a case. And it's the best one yet so I really don't want any distractions."

"We don't do anything ever Mrs. Hudson!" John barked. "I'm married remember?"

"That doesn't stop them." Mrs. Hudson called descending the stairs. "And Sherlock just be nice."

John jumped up off the floor. Sherlock followed by struggling to his feet. He had trouble avoiding tripping over the white fabric. Once he was up Sherlock reached over and grabbed a t-shirt to cover his bare skin.

"We'll be right there." John shouted telling Sherlock with his eyes to hurry the hell up.

Fully dressed and finished laughing they both slowly walked into the living room.

To their surprise a thin woman was sitting on Sherlock's chair looking at his skull.


End file.
